When a friendship is based on humor, there is only one way to solidify its permanence: tour around the world together.

Daniel Sloss and Kai Humphries have been friends as long as they have been comedians. To those that have seen Sloss live, there is a good chance that Humphries was the opening act. Sloss’ latest show, Can’t, is no exception.

During their stop at Chicago’s Athenaeum Theatre, audiences got to see the ying and the yang that is Humphries and Sloss. Humphries shared anecdotes about his wife, Natalie, and their dog, Peggy. His tone was almost whimsical, as if hearing stories from a friend that hasn’t been seen in a while.

With his 12th solo show currently traveling through the United States, the topics Sloss has covered during his career range from cancer and assault to family and relationships. His use of dark comedy may spark controversy, but it honestly sparks conversation the most. The audience rides an emotional rollercoaster, altering between fits of laughter and shocked gasps. When all is said and done, it is the quiet discussions while leaving the theater and for days afterward that truly make an impression.

It is no surprise that an impression is left on audience members, as his comedy special Jigsaw is credited with causing more than 120,000 breakups and 300 divorces worldwide. Of the more than 50 countries he’s toured thus far, he has managed to not only entertain but provoke a storm of intellectual discussions on religion, misogyny, and in his latest show, cancel culture.

He channels the comedians that paved the way for him, at a time when any joke about any person was on the table. It seems that the days of roasting anyone or anything just for the sake of a laugh end up taken out of context and give fuel for the internet to demand a boycott. Freedom of speech, after all.

He admits that his stance on some of his jokes have changed and he attributes that to fatherhood. That did not stop him, however, from telling those jokes. “Everything is fair play in comedy,” he said.

Curiosity, empathy and a healthy dose of fear are what Sloss says a comedian needs. It is also what Steve Irwin had, so he considers himself the Steve Irwin of stand-up comedy. No word yet on what that makes Humphries.

What both performers have nailed is sincere storytelling. Sure, embellishments are expected when delivering a punchline. Impeccable timing and coherent messaging is their specialty, though, and together they bring forth a performance that perfectly showcases how interconnected their friendship is.

Photo courtesy of Michelle Grace Hunder

Before I could even talk, my dad would put headphones on me in my cot while he was mixing his original music. I’d stare wide-eyed, clearly fascinated by the sounds, and cry uncontrollably when the song ended. Not much has changed, really. Growing up in a household full of musical instruments with a father who wrote songs and played bass in a rock band meant that music always seemed so normal to me. Everyone spent their weekends underage in a pub watching their dad’s Led Zeppelin cover band, right? Mum never played music herself, but she did have great taste in songwriters. I got Violent Femmes from Dad and Elton John from Mum - it was the perfect mixture of ballsy attitude and emotional sincerity that still informs my own writing to this day.

One Christmas when I was 8 years old, I was bestowed with the coveted role of “rockstar” in the family play my cousins and I used to put on (we were always little show-offs). My parents noticed I had a good voice and asked if I’d like to get lessons. For the next 10 years, I’d learn to sing classically with a teacher named Aleda Johnsen in Western Sydney, competing in eisteddfods and singing at charity events every year. Aleda was old-school and strict, and I’m convinced the techniques she taught me back then keep me from injuring my voice during a hectic touring schedule now.

I was so lucky. There were instruments everywhere. I picked up Dad’s acoustic guitar at 12 and pretty much never put it down. I started learning how to play and sing all the songs I loved, from Martin Sexton to Lucy Wainwright Roche. Soon my classical singing was taking a backseat to the cover gigs I’d play in local cafes, pubs and clubs, and this became my job for pocket money throughout high school. It definitely beat working at McDonald’s (although I’d probably have witnessed less fights breaking out at McDonald’s).

At 14, I wrote my first song. I was too scared to play it at any of my gigs, until one night my friend came to see me play for tips in the corner of a café in the Blue Mountains and encouraged me to be brave. Feeling the tiny audience respond to something I’d written, a story about my own life in my own words, was a feeling I’d never experienced, and one that I never wanted to stop. That was the night I decided that playing music was wonderful, but I only wanted to do it if I could play my own songs.

I don’t believe that purpose is written into our lives in any kind of predetermined way. I don’t believe it’s that organised. I do believe we create our own purpose and instil our own meaning to being alive, and I feel immensely lucky that I found something that brings me such joy and fulfilment so early, so I didn’t have to spend my whole life searching for it.

Photo courtesy of Liz Rosa Photography

“There is a quiet magic in a sun-soaked garden.”

Kristin Carter finds that tending to a garden inspires optimism. It may not come out as it was first envisioned, but by providing tender care and trusting the process, the end result is gratifying.

The same can be said for her music. Trusting the process is how her debut album, Full Bloom, came to be her non-floral garden.

“With all my different creative pieces involved with Full Bloom, I just thought of it as my creative garden,” she said. “All the different seeds I was nurturing and hoping would come to life.”

Much like her home garden, these 12 songs were a bit tricky at the start. Creating music has always been the way that Carter expresses her emotions. Her songwriting can be extremely vulnerable, and these songs were no exception.

“I struggle with letting people in on the day-to-day and so for me music is really the only way that I feel comfortable and confident doing it,” she said. “The way that I like to go about it is try and first get out a version of it that’s very personal to me and personal to my experiences directly. Then I try to craft it in a way that’s more resonant for people generally speaking. I think sometimes if it’s my opinion for myself and it’s too close to my own experience, then it really reflects me and maybe me alone, but if it’s a little bit broader then I think it can hopefully feel and connect with others and draw other people in based on their own experiences.”

The songs were pretty much written around the concept of “full bloom”: the elation of physical chemistry (“Euphoria”), the spiral of self-doubt (“Break”), the conversations we struggle to have (“The Waltz”), the complex and confusing realities for women (“Kintsugi”), joyful female empowerment (“Hey Woman!”), quiet moments of love (“Love You Forever”), the quest for vitality (“Alive”), slow-paced indulgence (“Lazy Sunday”), unrequited love (“I’m the One”), personal resilience (“I’m Still Here”), loss and grief (“Your Side of the Blue”), and the gratitude of relationships and human connection (“Good People Good Wine”).

The two lead singles, “I’m Still Here” and “Euphoria”, came as both a surprise and a natural progression. Carter had no doubt she wanted to release “Euphoria” as a single, but “I’m Still Here” hadn’t crossed her mind until multiple friends showed admiration for it when getting an advance listen to the album in its entirety.

“All are necessary - for a garden of only one kind of flower, wouldn’t be a garden at all.”

Full Bloom is incredibly visual to Carter, so she found that not only did these songs have themes but also had flowers that represented those themes. A song like “Break”, felt like a rose; beautiful to behold yet covered in thorns. The way flowers move and grow inspired Carter to craft her different feelings and experiences into fully formed lyrics and melodies.

This was the first time Carter also stepped into a producer role with help from longtime collaborator Marcus Ramsay. Although the technical aspect can be a daunting task, she said that the most challenging part was having the confidence and comfortability to take on the role. From recording her own vocals at home to re-recording studio vocals, it was a lot of responsibility. It makes her all the more proud of the end result.

The intent was also that listeners will find different layers as they process each track. Each relisten may reveal a new line or theme that wasn’t caught the first time around.

“My hope is that each time you listen, it will be different - you’ll hear things in a different glow of light that make them new all over again; the first and the last time you’ll ever hear it that way.”

 

Photo courtesy of Jen Squires

Music has always been my sanctuary; a refuge where I could try and make sense of the complexities of life experiences and human behaviour. But, like most things, the journey to becoming a professional musician was not a straight path. It was a weaving tapestry of serendipitous experiences, timing, emotions, courage, moving through self-doubt and fear, and endless curiosity and self-discovery.

Before songwriting and composing took shape, I found solace in the written word. Writing was my first love, a tool I used to process life’s ups and downs. Poems became my outlet and canvas. Through words, I could try and capture the essence and make sense of my experiences, the nuances of my emotions and the intricacies of the human psyche. Writing was more than a hobby; it was a lifeline, a way to integrate life’s experiences and find meaning in the chaos.

Then came my first guitar, a gift from my father. It wasn’t just any guitar; it was a symbol of love, a token of a father’s affection. A music store owner, indebted to my father, gifted him the guitar in lieu of payment. Little did I know that this guitar would become my confidant, and my gateway to a lifelong passion. My father’s passing shortly after gifting me the guitar added an emotional depth to my musical journey. I cherished that guitar like a precious heirloom, a tangible connection to my past and a beacon guiding my future.

As I grew older, my passion for music intensified. While pursuing my undergraduate studies, I joined a band and eventually had the opportunity to record my first album. It was a defining moment, a crossroads where I had to choose between my academic aspirations and my musical dreams. With unwavering conviction, I decided to take a year off from school to pursue music wholeheartedly.

For the next 15 years, I toured internationally as a songwriter, played in different bands and immersed myself in the world of music. It was a whirlwind of experiences; a rollercoaster ride filled with highs and lows, but through it all, writing and music remained my constant companions. However, life has a way of coming full circle. Amidst the global pandemic, I felt a calling to pivot and explore a new/old path. Fuelled by my lifelong curiosity about human behavior and the complexities of our subjective understanding, I returned to school and became a psychotherapist.

Today, music continues to be my tool, my medium of expression and my passion. My new project, Chorus of Courage, marries all my passions, allowing me to use the healing power of music to support others. By honouring the stories of survivors through the voices of artists, I aim to facilitate community healing, advocate for a more just and consent-based world, and help integrate difficult experiences.

In retrospect, the moment I knew I wanted to make music was not a single moment but a series of interconnected experiences, a journey of self-discovery, resilience and growth. Creativity has been my compass, guiding me through life’s twists and turns, and I am forever grateful for the gift of expression it has given me.

I vividly recall the moment I first sang in front of a crowd. It was during a St. Patrick’s Day talent show in third grade, where I took to the stage and belted out a Miley Cyrus song (naturally). Despite a flutter of nerves, I had a much larger sense of excitement. Looking back, I realize that this moment lit a flame within me that would shape my future, even though I may not have known it yet.

Throughout my schooling, music became more than just a hobby; it became my passion. From enthusiastically participating in musicals and chorus in middle school to joining the exclusive jazz choir in high school, I immersed myself in every musical opportunity that came my way. My high school jazz choir even had the opportunity to sing with the New York Voices at an eastern choral conference, an experience that left a mark on me and helped shape my lasting love for jazz music.

Even in the midst of choosing between pursuing music or skiing competitively at a school in upstate New York, the path became clear. I followed my heart to a city where music, jazz specifically, thrived - Chicago. It was a decision rooted in logic, driven by the certainty that music would always be a part of my life, whereas skiing held a less certain future. I later transferred to a school in the Bronx where I was able to find more inspiration and opportunities closer to Manhattan (especially after turning 21) and I was able to attend more jam sessions and shows.

College me continued the musical journey, balancing academics with band meetings/performances and a cappella rehearsals. However, the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic forced a hiatus, prompting our band to adapt and record remotely. It was during this period of introspection that I made the tough decision to part ways with the band and venture into solo pursuits.

Leaving the band was not easy, but it opened doors to so many new opportunities and experiences. As I delved deeper into the music scene of the city, surrounded by fellow artists striving towards similar aspirations, I felt a surge of inspiration. It dawned on me that music was not just a passion but a potential career path - one that I could envision myself pursuing for a lifetime.

The journey into pursuing music has been quite a transformative one, marked by moments of uncertainty and so much self-discovery. With each chord and every lyric, I find solace and purpose. As I continue to carve my path in the music world, I carry with me the conviction that the decision to follow my passion was the right one. In music, I have found not just a potential career but a mission.

Photo courtesy of Dana Gorab

The last time I cried at a concert was the first time I knew for sure I wanted to be a star. It was the Lady Gaga concert in 2017, for her Joanne tour, and a friend had gotten a few of us tickets for my 17th birthday.

We had spent the last year laughing, screaming, crying along to and learning every word to the Joanne album, so one can imagine how elated we were all feeling to actually get to see it live. Actually, elated was an understatement. We spent the first half of the evening getting all dressed up and blasting the album with our pink cowboy hats (that we, of course, purchased specifically for that night), so we were more than ready to take the Joanne World Tour by storm.

When we arrived at the venue, we took our seats at the very back of the stadium, as we had gotten pretty cheap tickets, but one of my friends was determined to sneak closer (as most 17-year-olds are at a concert, unsupervised). To my surprise, as the show started we were able to sneak down a few sections closer into some empty seats, and as Stefani Germanotta took that stage, I genuinely couldn’t believe she was real.

It was my very first time setting eyes on someone in the flesh who I not only looked up to as a vocalist, performer, artist, creative and writer, but also just as a woman who has had such an incredulous impact and powerful influence on young women and the LGBTQIA+ community. Her music has had such an impact on the youth and pop culture as a whole.

Tears instantaneously flowed from my eyes, and not just because she was an icon to me, but because it was the first time I felt the real magic of music. The magic of someone so powerful and raw, who is able to channel things through song and bring thousands of people together for one moment in time, so that all of us out there, however different we may be, are able to have one heartbeat. The true power and magic of music. What music is truly all about.

That night meant the world to me. As I watched Lady Gaga on that stage, performing in ways I’ve never seen someone do, hitting every note, every movement in the choreography executed to perfection, the creativity and intention in the show itself, It filled my bones with an inexplicable knowing that for the rest of my life I wanted to have an influence on people in that way. I wanted to bring people together to laugh, scream, dance, rejoice and cry, the way Lady Gaga did for me that night.

At the break of dawn, in the few minutes where the darkened sky turns to shades of orange pink, reflecting over a body of water, is a tansu. In the Turkish language, tan translates to “sun” and su translates to “water”. It was a lovely choice for a name, and an even lovelier choice to use that name as a moniker for storytelling.

When TANSU released her EP, The City, in March, she was nervous to listen to it. After all, she had been working on these six songs for eight years. Alongside her producer, Dave Rublin, she wanted to give listeners the same feeling she gets when listening to music: a sense of understanding.

She first met Rublin at Berklee College of Music. She watched as he and his friends took over the charts as American Authors, and when she was in the market for a new creative partner, she reached out to him. They hadn’t known each other personally during college, so they got to know each other better over countless hours of listening to music together.

“We just both realized that we have really amazing synchronicity in the studio,” she said. “We both are in sync with where a melody goes, with how a bass should sound. We just started listening to music in his Bushwick apartment, on the roof overlooking the New York skyline, and through conversation we made it work.”

One day, Rublin gave her a call and told her he had a track he wanted her to sing on. That night they wrote the chorus for “Love Alone”. She said they had no idea what they were doing, but that their sessions together were unlike anything they had experienced before.

“It’s the most beautiful musical relationship where we just hear what each other is thinking,” she said. “It’s hard to find someone on that same wavelength and I’m very lucky that I found that person for me.”

The first song they finished from beginning to end was “Truth About Us”. They considered releasing it right away, and had even filmed a music video, but recognized that they had nothing as a follow-up. They went back to “Love Alone” to see if they could finish it, and before long they had “Got 2 Me”, “Downtown”, “Better Off (Without You)” and “Easy Love”.

As the songs made it to the final track listing, she realized they had something in common: relationships with a tie to New York. They had five fully completed songs, and if they finally finished “Love Alone”, they’d have enough songs to create an EP.

“Better Off (Without You)” is the one she most looked forward to getting feedback from because it’s the kind of track she loved to listen to while growing up. It was almost a tradition for either the last or second to last song to be a ballad on a full length album. It gave off a “much needed hug” vibe, as she described it, while sharing a highly relatable message of how to process the end of a loving female friendship.

“[It] is a different type of heartbreak,” she said. “Growing up for me, you just dealt with it. There’s always a specific, unfortunate type of friend that breaks your heart for their own reason, and I wanted to write a song about that because I feel like whenever there’s a heartbreak in a female singer it’s usually about a romantic relationship. I think a friendship is heartbreak all the more.”

“Easy Love” was written about a friend she made at Berklee who passed away suddenly. As soon as she heard the news, she made her way to Roblin’s apartment so they could process the news together. Within three days, the most emotionally raw of the tracks was fully written.

There are many messages to uncover throughout the EP, but overall it is an EP for anyone who has ever felt alone. Underneath catchy melodies and powerhouse vocals are vulnerable emotions that are meant to make the listener feel like they are heard.

Originally, alt-pop singer and songwriter Keyse had different plans for her first single of 2024. There was something about “Flesh & Blood”, however, that made her change her mind.

She filmed a music video for the song a little over a year ago. Shot at Good Time Film Studio, she soberly performs the song as home movies are projected behind her. When she revisited the completed video, she said she felt a visceral reaction to it.

“I felt that if I could still have a very strong emotional response years after the song’s creation, that it would probably be wise to share that with the world first,” she said.

The song itself is deeply personal. It shares the story of a miscarriage she had a few years ago that ultimately led to her discovery and treatment of Endometriosis.

“I did not plan and do not plan to ever be pregnant, but this experience brought about some very intense reflection and consideration of the fact that I would not get the opportunity to change my mind in the future,” she said. “‘Flesh & Blood’ delves into this inner monologue of me trying to navigate through a mess of conflicting feelings.”

Her honest storytelling in her music is something she has always done, and the writing process for this song is no different. Chord progression comes first, as she’s sitting at her keyboard. The lyrics are written during this time as well. She said that a stripped down, first demo of “Flesh & Blood” was completed in about 30 minutes.

Despite her usual process, there was a difference when it came time to recording and production. The first recording session happened with her friends Michael Rumple and Matt Graham. Two years later, she brought it back into the studio with producer Landon Tewers for additional production. They ended up re-recording the vocals, and Tewers mixed and mastered the final product.

“In general, going to the studio and seeing my songs go from their original state of a stripped down demo, to coming to life with full production is one of the most fulfilling things to me as a musician,” she said. “Despite the subject matter, writing and recording this song was a rewarding experience. It wasn’t until my first and only performance of this song on a filmed live-stream that I felt any sort of difficulty. It was quite challenging to navigate my emotions during that performance.”

While this song is raw yet presented in a digestible pop format, a narrative on bodily autonomy is wildly important. Keyse shares her own experience knowing that in the face of tragedy, music can heal.

“I hope that whoever listens to ‘Flesh & Blood’ takes whatever they need from it,” she said. “If that’s a shared experience or mutual understanding, or even just awareness or solidarity. I hope that my candidness in my lyrics or storytelling provides whatever it is that the listener is looking for.”

Finding a music producer that connects with an artist on an emotional level can be a daunting task. Casii Stephan jokes that she is her own version of Elizabeth Taylor, with ex-producers instead of ex-husbands. She constantly wants to challenge herself and try something new, so when she found a connection with Ben Tanner, she knew they could make something magical.

“One of the reasons I picked him was that on the phone calls with him he wasn’t afraid of silence,” she said. “That really intrigued me because he doesn’t feel the need to fill the space and talk too much. I really felt like he listened and I could hear myself think working with him. There was just space to absorb the song and listen to the song.”

When Stephan sent over some recent demos, Tanner immediately gravitated towards “Can’t Handle Me”. It was inspired by her roommate’s night out, where an intoxicated, married individual was insistent that she join him in his hotel room. When she returned home and relayed the story, it sparked an idea.

“I wrote this because anger really is a good inspiration for me,” she said. “I wanted to write ‘Can’t Handle Me’ to say things to these men that I don’t feel as women we can always be honest about. You just don’t know what they’re going to do, being drunk, so there’s that aspect of, ‘I need to protect my life and my safety and I need to just smile and nod’ and so I wanted to write some lyrics out and some thoughts out about what I really think about these men. It’s not them; they really can’t handle everything I’m thinking right now. Their ego would be absolutely deflated. There’s anger in the process of writing but I think in the actual song it’s very fun and joyous, and hopefully people feel that energy.”

When Tanner chose “Can’t Handle Me”, he also suggested that they consider creating an EP rather than just record a single. Stephan pitched six additional songs, and Tanner chose three: “Average Man”, “Wine and Gold” and “Without A Box”. They met in Muscle Shoals, Ala. and spent three days with a live band before returning a month later to record horns.

She wanted to make sure that she didn’t leave these sessions with any regrets. This recording process was such a different experience for her, but she trusted Tanner and his expertise. It felt like a leap of faith for Stephan that became her proudest achievement.

She admits that when Tanner chose the four songs, she initially struggled to see the overall message. She kept asking herself, ‘What is the theme?’ Sonically, it told a story. But what about lyrically? The more time she spent with the songs, the more she discovered that each song was a different relationship status. From single to taken to it’s complicated to acceptance, the listeners walk through a journey of recognizing each status and realizing it shouldn’t define anyone.

Sometimes creativity comes out of limitations, and having that challenge is what helped Casii Stephan create her upcoming EP, Relationship Status. “Can’t Handle Me” is the song that started this creative journey and brings forth a conversation on negative societal norms.

“These statuses help us grow and they help us become more and more the person we’re supposed to be,” Stephan said. “No matter who you are or where you are in life, it does help define you and refine you as a woman. We have to go through these experiences. We don’t get out of life scar-free, but a lot of times there’s things that happen better than what we’ve ever planned on. It’s about letting go and just receiving the journey that we’re on and not holding tight to our previous expectations.”